Steve, I'm seriously Scared of You.

Hi there. Pictured below is my friend Steve. I once had a job where my desk was next to someone who answered phones. She would say, "your name is pete, P as in Paper, (etc.)" I started to think about how I would spell my buddy Steve's name, and I thought; S as in Strangle, T as in Thermos full of blood, E as in Evidence, V as in Victim, E as in Early Death.

I looked in Steve's dream journal, and it described a scene just like this to your left. You see, Loomis is the ultimate paradox, because killing everyone on Earth would make him extremely happy, but having no one left to kill would make him very sad. Here are things that make steve happy: learning about history, costing people their lives, his buddy Jim, treating electronics as if they're humans who are purposefully trying to fool him, football prospects and Steely Dan. Also, this is a complete list. In the Projected Lifetime Killing Factor (PLKF), Loomis' score is a nearly perfect 17. (See bearded man appendix for formula). There is a softer side, though. Here's Steve helping out at a charity dog rescue.

Anyway, the point of this is that Steve always complains that there isn't enough beard content on the site (he likes reading about my beard. I forgot about that in the list above.) So seeing as how I want to live to see Steve eventually kill me for some other reason, I'm gonna talk about my beard for a lil'.

State of the Beard

My beard is in a state of flux right now, as I am going for a two week castaway look, but have arrived at a well fed AIDS patient look. Below are some concerns:

This stint on the unemployment line has given me ample time to keep IMPECCABLE grooming standards. Just today, I shaved my ass and balls, head, and beard, chest, stomach, and inner thighs. Make it quick, Loomis, please?